


the greatest loves of all time were never made

by fancyfanstuff



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Character Study, F/F, S4 finale, i guess, more or less, post-reveal, taking certain artistic liberties ;)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:07:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29756613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fancyfanstuff/pseuds/fancyfanstuff
Summary: one. of all the truths she has to face, this is the hardest: she should have known.When Supergirl's identity is revealed, Lena notes down six and a half truths she has learned.A Lena Luthor character study in fic. (It's angst. Of course it is.)
Relationships: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor
Comments: 14
Kudos: 66





	the greatest loves of all time were never made

**Author's Note:**

> Hey peeps,
> 
> I got an anon ask on tumblr to write a fic based on Taylor Swift's 'the 1' and I... totally didn't do that. However, I _did_ write a very angsty something that broke my heart in the process, so like. This is a warning. Please consult your doctor or pharmacist about any risks and side effects of pure (canonical) angst.
> 
> That being said, I hope you still enjoy this :D
> 
> (P.S. Title also _inspired_ by 'the 1', because I think I am funny and we all have to live with that...)

_one. of all the truths she has to face, this is the hardest: she should have known._

Lena had always paid attention to Kara. From the moment she had shuffled into her office, wide-eyed and earnest, trailing behind the pure boulder that was Clark Kent, yet somehow refusing to be swallowed up in his shadow, Lena had been watching her. 

With curiosity, at first. Who was that woman, that not-yet reporter, with her hair so neatly casual it seemed an almost painful attempt to not be noticed? Who was she, with her startled “me?”, who appeared so at ease around Superman’s alter ego, but became flustered as soon as Lena addressed a word at her? And who was she, to score a job at the highest-grossing news magazine in National City, just to use her position to go against all public evidence and defend _Lena_ of all people, in one of the first articles she published?

With interest, later. After they’d become friends, over interviews and luncheons, gala dinners and assassination attempts, Lena’s eyes started to wander. Not in a disrespectful way, not generally anyway – but in a way that resembled approval. Appreciation. Noticing, almost en passant, the strain of Kara’s biceps against her blouses. The hint of a six-pack through her shirts. The curve of her thighs in those ever-tight trousers. And Lena was nothing if not a professional when it came to suppressing attraction, but for every time her gaze lingered on her best friends form, Kara’s eyes roamed hers twice, so it was only natural that Lena started dialling up the intensity of her stares. 

With affection, finally. Two years of friendship had brought ups and downs, both of which helped build a comfortable basis of familiarity. They had also brought boyfriends, first for Kara and then, in a move that shouldn’t have felt like retaliation, for Lena herself. Most of all, they had brought depth. Where before Lena’d noticed Kara’s smile, she now paid attention to the generous heart behind it. Instead of looking at Kara’s body, she now focused on perceiving the little changes in her posture, a proud rigidity on days when Kara seemed ready to take on the whole world, a minuscule slump in moments when she needed Lena to offer a hug.

Lena had always paid attention to Kara. Which is why she could have – should have – known. 

_one point one. in direct relation, this: she should have known better. after all, only fools make the same mistake twice, and refuse to learn still._

Good things didn’t come easy to Luthors, which was probably why most of her family had decided to go evil. A free interpretation of being the change you want to see in the world, maybe, mixed with the indeterminable hubris of man.

As a child, Lena used to think she deserved to be scowled at. Admonished. Pushed aside, with an annoyed eye-roll and an excusing sigh – “not now, Lena, when will you learn that your little problems do not interest nor concern me”. School was a reprieve, if not from loneliness (endless electives did their share to estrange Lena from her classmates, Lillian’s ready bribes to any kid that dared approach Lena anyway took care of the rest), then at least from abuse. She discovered books. She discovered science. And although Lillian never looked at her chemistry experiments the way she looked at Lex’s, the intensity of her glower diminished somewhat. 

As a teenager, Lena started to get an inkling that maybe her worth wasn’t entirely defined by her family’s approval. It was at boarding school that she first experienced praise, the warmth of a proud smile, the feeling of being appreciated for once. The dangerous idea that no matter how many threats Lillian uttered, if Lena moved fast enough, brilliant enough, unforeseen enough, she might get to receive _praise_ again. It was also at boarding school that she learned the meaning of affection. Friendship. Love. And eventually betrayal. The bittersweet pain of misplaced trust stabbed right through the fragile illusion of self-esteem that the years with Andrea had helped build, stabbed and ripped and burned, until from the ashes rose a new person. Cool, proud, isolated. A Luthor at last. 

As an adult, Lena loathed herself. It came naturally to her, just like chemistry did, a flaming passion in her chest that fuelled her every action. Never waning. Never sated. As sole heiress to the Luthor name, hatred became Lena’s submission just as much as it became her rebellion. She hated, because that was what she had been raised to do. Yet unlike her family, she kept the terror to herself, locking it into her heart, which she sealed air-tight. Fed the hungry heritage inside her with self contempt every day. Hoped it would be enough to keep the fire from catching. Prayed that if it wasn’t, nobody would be close enough to get burnt.

It worked so well until it didn’t. She should have known better than to stop nourishing the flame.

_two. karma is not scientifically proven, but that doesn’t mean it cannot be real. gravitational waves existed before they could be measured, two plus two made four before maths could explain why. the nature of science comprises a lag, a consistent effort to catch up that can never succeed because_

So, Kara.

Kara the golden one, Kara the sun, Kara and her warmest affections that thawed Lena’s soul just enough to make her realise that she’d been freezing. Kara. 

In the language of chemistry, Lena might describe her best friend as a catalyst. If Lena’s life was a trudging and complicated reaction, Kara represented support. A f acilitator. Impetus. It had been Kara who gave her credibility w hen Lena first came to National City, a well-known stranger to a distrustful people. It had also been Kara who had introduced her to a social circle. H er, Lena, the ever-lone wolf, who had invested years of her life in persuading herself that solitude was not only what she deserved but also what she wanted. And it had been Kara who made her smile. 

So, Kara.

Kara the false one, Kara the traitor, Kara and her warmest affections that fooled Lena’s soul just long enough to make her forget that the second shoe was yet to drop.

Kara.

_three. people are fallible. imperfect. this includes herself, a s well as aliens, none of which is new information to her. however_

It should be said that Lena’s relationship with Supergirl had always been somewhat strained. Lena supposed that was only to be expected, what with the knowledge of their families’ enmity being so widespread, it qualified as pop culture. 

Consequently, in her effort to have a fresh start, Lena had been more than careful to steer clear of the hero at first. No need to feed the media any more, exalted as it already was over the fact that a Super and a Luthor cohabited a city again. No need to risk revisiting old wounds either; the red hue of the dying sun bleeding through a packed courtroom, her voice, strong and clear, testifying against her own brother, Lex’s vow of vengeance as he was escorted away that to this date still haunted her some nights – she had no desire to be reminded of any of it. 

And yet Supergirl found her . Saved her for the first time mere days after Lena’d arrived in National City, and somehow made a habit of it. And, well, she sort of had to, the flurry of attempts on Lena’s life following so close after another, it almost defied the laws of coincidence, but still… It seemed even less coincidental that Supergirl would be right on time to obviate each and every one of them, considering how many inhabitants National city had. Lena happened to be quite decent at statistics, and there was no way multiple accidents didn’t happen simultaneously. Super speed or not, Supergirl would be forced to compromise, to prioritise one life over another, and yet she chose Lena, every single time. 

It was flattering, this extra attention – not to mention that there was something to be said for strong female arms holding her tighter than strictly necessary – exhilarating even, and for a while Lena had almost made herself believe that they could do this. A Luthor and a Super, working together. Fighting together. Maybe even _being_ – 

_four. trust is a powerful illusion. she has allowed herself to forget this, and what is worse , she did it subconsciously. but life teaches lessons to everyone, even if she refuses to listen. and the price for oblivion is steep._

It should be said that Lena’s relationship with Supergirl had always been somewhat strained. Which was why when the hero let her down, Lena’s disappointment was limited. Opening up to Supergirl had been a calculated risk, the hope that the woman would be different than her cousin, that their relationship would deviate from the historical norm, had been just that. A hope. Not an expectation. Not something Lena would ever make the mistake of taking it for granted. 

It still hurt. The reminder that her trust in Supergirl was not mutual. The familiar scepticism towards her last name, the wary stare that bored into years-old wounds like a harpoon, refusing to be dislodged again. The frown that spoke of prejudiced conclusions. It hurt, and so Lena refused to look more closely. Instead, she withdrew from the scene with her head held high and her eyes shut to the trail of hints that her fight with Supergirl could have given her. Hints like Alex Danvers reaching for Supergirl’s shoulder in a gesture way too intimate to be between colleagues. Hints like James watching her and Kara interacting at CatCo as if he feared an explosion might happen at any given minute. Hints like Kara herself suddenly acting different with Lena, holding her tighter, watching her closer, smiling at her with a sort of melancholic longing that simply hadn’t been there before. 

All the signs had been there, really. But Lena, in her foolishness and her hurt, in her relief over being prepared for this , her hubris over having dodged that particular bullet, Lena had closed her eyes. 

And Kara’s betrayal caught her in the dark. 

_five. everything comes full circle, and she is back where she started. alone. heartbroken. scared. and hellbent on not letting any of it show._

When Lena closes her notebook, it is past nine, and the whiskey bottle next to her looks dangerously empty. She feels equally drained, her heartbeat hollow in her chest as she takes a minute to gather the strength to stretch. When she sighs, the skin of her face strains – she realises it’s crusted in dried tears, probably running black with mascara. She will have to freshen up before game night. 

It is strange, she thinks slowly, her mind sluggish after five and a half truths, strange how the blood of her own brother is still smeared across the back of her hand, staining the pages of the notebook she’s been writing in, yet she hasn’t spared him a single remorseful thought. She feels the sick urge to laugh at the idea, but the sound emerges as a sob. Dry and raspy and telling of the hours she’s spent crying already. She scolds herself for it, for the grief she’s allowed herself to feel, for wallowing in self-pity when she should be focusing on something else. Revenge. Payback. Creating a weapon sharp enough to cut even impenetrable skin.

But forging takes time and she’s already late. There is a voice in the back of her mind, a voice that sounds suspiciously like Lillian, telling her that keeping up appearances is crucial at this point. Even though everything in her body revolts against the idea of game night with the Superfriends. Even though her facial muscles seem to have forgotten how smiling works. Even though the mere thought of seeing Kara makes her feel nauseous.

She goes over the lines in her head when she’s in the car, diligently chewing gum to cover the scent of whiskey about her. Two wine bottles in her bag that will serve as an excuse for being late. Her lashes curled just a tad more than usual because she’s read somewhere that it makes people look happier. Her voice still a little hoarse from crying but nothing that can’t be smoothed over with her signature smirk.

She’s so prepared, it should be easy, and yet she freezes when Kara addresses her. Her heart stutters. She can feel her lip quivering as her perfect performance glitches for just one second. Because for all the truths she’s noted down, she’s failed to formulate the reason. Because for all the truths she’s noted down, there is on final, ultimate truth, that she just couldn’t find the strength to admit.

Her hand is shaking when she adds it later, just a bullet point and three little words, yet they cut deeper than all the others.

_six. love is blind._

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @fancyfanstuff ^^


End file.
